behind her. Colter turned the lock. The sound was definitive, a m

desk and sat down, gesturing to the leathe

e of the seat, her hands c

tical. "You want to see Dallas Barlow's real m

s using a fake diagnosis to defraud me, and I ne

eaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in fr

kin," he said, his tone professional, yet his words were a violat

ly humiliating. Her face burned. To be asked th

e bit ou

g like no barrier at all. "So the other night, at the hotel... your extreme

ished surface of the desk. "Dr. Kensington, that is none of

exhibiting signs of extreme sexual frustration can be a key indicator of the psychological pressur

with his words while maintaining a professional veneer. D

ened slightly. He dropped the bomb. "Physiologi

you can testify to that? Yo

iagnosis. As long as he claims to have it, and as long as he's seeing a the

bring me in here?" she asked, he

, and she instinctively shrank back in her chair until her

rapping her completely in his shadow. He leaned

low vibration that seemed to go straight through

ched. "What...

d you take anything? To bind the remaining toxins in your system? T

ast two days, the most obvious, most catastrophic m

bled to her feet, backing away fro

s. He turned, tore a sheet from a prescription

macy downstairs. It's a high-dose hepa

and turned to flee. She wrenched open the door, desp

allway, his voice followe

te a physical examination with a specific neurological trigger test that he won't know how to fake. I can force hi

look back.